Lorcan laughed. “My honor has been questioned by better men than you, Magister Daviroquir. But clearly, you do not have the knowledge I need, so I will bid you goodnight and take my leave.”
“I think not, traitor,” said Thomas. Raising his hands to either side, he waving his soldiers forward. “You will have to kill us all before we allow you to pervert the Court any further with your weakness.”
* * *
Lorcan looked at the advancing enemy soldiers and felt the tension of his own forces through the bloodline while they prepared to defend him. He sighed. “Thomas Magister Daviroquir, you have no honor.”
Both sides came to an immediate halt. Realizing what had been said, they waited on Thomas’ answer.
Thomas called his sword into existence. It was a serviceable and well-maintained Roman gladius he had taken off his first victim, more than two millennia before. “I accept your challenge, Diluthical scum.” The House Daviroquir soldiers fell back to give him more room.
Lorcan called his own sword to his hand: an ornately etched longsword chased with gold. He had recovered it from the body of the officer leading the force of men that murdered his human lover. He had carried it proudly as a reminder of that vengeance for almost four hundred years. “Do you wish to choose another time and place?” he asked, waving his own forces back.
Thomas laughed. “And lose this chance to destroy you in front of your own house? Never.” He raised his sword and his free hand to either side. “When you are gone, I will kill them all in any case. Two have entered.” A half-circle of blue flames spread out behind him when he invoked the combat ritual.
Lorcan strode in front of the enemy Magister, raising his own arms as he went. A half-circle of green flames spread out behind him to seal the two of them within a ring of fire. “One will leave,” he said, completing the spell.
The flames ran together and burned white. Each dropped his arms and regarded the other calmly. Nothing further needed to be said while they assessed each other with their full senses alert. The circle would contain them both, cut off from assistance until one of them was dead.
Lorcan struck first, the gold scrollwork on his blade catching the light when he slashed at Thomas’ throat.
Thomas leisurely leaned away from the blade, allowing the tip of Lorcan’s sword to pass barely an inch away from his neck, attacking before Lorcan could reverse his stroke to block. He lunged forward, driving the point of his sword at Lorcan’s left eye, and the Daywalker turned his head to save his sight. The Roman blade scored deeply across the bridge of his nose and laid open his forehead, the charmed steel preventing Lorcan from regenerating the damage.
Lorcan cursed as he recovered, his vision partially obscured by the blood that ran down his face to cover his left eye. He had known Thomas was good, but he hadn’t expected to take a near-crippling injury in the first seconds of the fight.
Thomas grinned at Lorcan’s expression. “Surprised, Irish? You may have fancied yourself a duelist against your own House trash, but I have trained with the best swordsmen in Europe and killed them all.” His expression darkened. “It is time you learned the price of challenging House Daviroquir. Tonight, I will spill your blood to quiet the spirits of our dead, and then tomorrow I will strike across the water to exterminate your House once and for all.”
Lorcan said nothing, watching for an opening. He realized that he might be outclassed. He rolled away from Thomas’ blade and cut at the Nightwalker's exposed wrist.
Thomas simply altered the angle of his attack and deflected Lorcan’s stroke on the flat of his sword. Then he reached out with his left hand and slashed his claws across Lorcan’s chest.
Lorcan stumbled back, taken by surprise, and brought his sword up to block the obvious strike. However, Thomas scowled and disengaged, raising his left hand to shade his eyes. Risking a quick glance down, Lorcan realized what had happened. Thomas had torn open Lorcan’s shirt along with his flesh, and the glowing cross brand left behind by the Grace was fully visible on his chest.
“Mongrel,” Thomas snarled. “I will take pleasure in putting you down.” He attacked again, faster than before, galvanized by his disgust at the reminder of Lorcan’s Daywalker nature.
Lorcan fought defensively while his mind raced. I’m going to lose. I can stave off the inevitable for a while by avoiding his attacks, but I can’t win that way, and Thomas is good enough to use any attack as an opening. If I fight conventionally as a Nightwalker, I am going to die, and soon. But I’m not a Nightwalker, am I? Was there something he could use in his Daywalker nature, something in his inheritance of Light that he could turn to his advantage against a Child of Darkness? He thought madly of everything Nick had told him about Daywalkers while they were together—all the while being driven slowly backward toward the limit of the circle.
Thomas casually flicked his sword across Lorcan’s cheek, taking advantage of the distraction. “Pay attention, dog. Your precious Light can’t save you now.”
Lorcan lunged forward to try to bury the point of his sword in Thomas’ belly. It was a foolish move, but Thomas wasn’t expecting it, and he fell back for a moment in surprise instead of attacking. It gave him a brief respite, but enough for Lorcan to think clearly. Could it really be that simple? Nick had done it, but Nick was born a Sentinel. He could claim the Creator’s protection by right. Would the White Wind answer his call as a Daywalker? Do I dare to even try?
Lorcan raised his sword and circled Thomas at the limits of the combat circle. The Nightwalker followed him with his sword, clearly wondering what Lorcan was doing. Lorcan gathered his resolve and prayed for the first time in more than five centuries. Lord, help me save my House from this Nightwalker, he thought. Help me save Toby and Andrea. Help me save all those who will die when the Nexus destroys human civilization. Please, lend me the smallest part of your strength to let me save the rest of them in your name. Then Lorcan lowered his sword and closed his eyes, invoking the spellform he had looked up once in the Armistice archives, just out curiosity.
* * *
Thomas frowned when Lorcan lowered his guard, wondering if it was a trick. What does it matter? Dead is dead, whether the Daywalker fights back or not. He raised his sword across his body and darted forward, intending to cut Lorcan’s head from his shoulders and end it.
Lorcan’s eyes snapped open, the whites and irises iridescent blue, and the glowing cross brand on his chest burst into searing cobalt light.
Thomas barely had time to scream before the azure flames of the Faith Ward exploded around him.
* * *
Lorcan stood silently in the center of a circle of blue flames while the white fire of the combat circle went out, held fast by the Ward and a musical voice that thundered in his mind. “Your fealty is accepted, Ruarc Magister Diluthical. One day, we will call upon you. Go now, in peace, the way you came.” Then the magic faded, and Lorcan collapsed to the floor, gasping. He wearily raised his head and looked around, seeing the spill of dust next to the legionnaire’s sword on the floor before him. He swallowed when he realized that the rest of the vampires were standing around the periphery of the room, both sides intermingled, staring at him. He pulled himself to his feet, waiting for their reaction.
For several moments, they did nothing. Then, almost at the same instant, they all knelt before him and bowed their heads. All but one. Lorcan faced the Consul who had been in charge of the stronghold. The Nightwalker walked forward slowly to stand before him.
Then the other vampire knelt as well. “Lorcan Magister Diluthical, I am William Consul Daviroquir. House Daviroquir recognizes the verdict of the Challenge of Kings, and I offer my surrender on their behalf. Our lives are yours. We are your blades to wield.”
Lorcan relaxed, feeling the tension of the duel sluice away. “I accept the honor of House Daviroquir, to defend as if it were my own.”
William raised his gaze to look directly into Lorcan’s eyes. “The Court told us that the Redeemer was false, that th
e Children of the Dawn were merely the product of some new magic he had stolen from Jiao-long. But tonight, we saw you call on the Light for aid, and it answered you.” The Nightwalker’s eyes reddened with unshed tears. “How could we have been so wrong?”
Lorcan chose his words with care. “The Redeemer is an instrument of the Light, not the Light itself. He would be the first to tell you so. He can only open the first door, if you seek him out. The rest is up to you.”
The Nightwalker nodded and then stood. “How can we serve, Master?”
Lorcan glanced at the rest of the soldiers when they stood and held themselves at attention. “Thomas was telling the truth, wasn’t he? He didn’t know about the Wind.”
The Nightwalker nodded. “To the best of my knowledge, we had no intelligence regarding a latent Wind in our territory. But if you truly found our elite soldiers on the battlefield, then only a Consul or above could have ordered them into battle.”
Lorcan growled, his eyes turning red. “Then tell all of them that I want them here to swear allegiance to me personally within the hour.”
CHAPTER 12
The White House, Washington, D.C.; Four hours, fifty-three minutes remaining
The blown glass paperweight shattered against the wall. President Daniels stood seething, his hands resting on either side of his desk.
“I warned you, Kevin,” Nick reminded him.
Daniels said nothing in reply. The door to the Oval Office opened, and two Secret Service agents entered the room. “Is everything all right, sir?” one of them asked.
Nick waited to see if Daniels would throw him out.
Finally, the President addressed his agents. “I’m fine. Please wait outside.”
When they left, Daniels looked at Nick again. “Do you know who took her?”
“House Daviroquir,” Nick said. “We identified several of their soldiers on the battlefield. Lorcan is trying to identify the culprits from that end.”
Daniels fell backward into his seat. “Do you think she’s still alive?” he asked in a strained voice.
“If they wanted to kill either of them, the Nightwalkers could have finished them off in Oxford.” Nick dropped into one of the chairs facing the desk. “We just have to hope we find them.” He let his eyes meet Daniels’. “And it gets worse.”
“My daughter is in the hands of a soulless bunch of vampires, and it gets worse?” Daniels asked hotly.
“They’ve got my brother too, Kevin, but we both have bigger problems.” Nick took a deep breath to calm himself. “Have you been experiencing any problems with your computer systems?”
Daniels frowned. “Yes. There have been glitches reported all over the country, even in the shielded military nodes. The Joint Chiefs just briefed me about it. What does that have to do with anything?”
“They’re not glitches.” Nick slumped in his seat. “The Nightwalkers used an EMP projector to burn out Jack and Toby’s AIs before they could raise the alarm. That means a nuclear government was involved in the raid. The AIs are pissed that Toby’s AI was destroyed with no backup. They want revenge, and they’ve targeted all of the human nuclear powers. If we can’t show them we’ve caught whoever is behind this, in five hours they’ll wipe the systems clean. They’ll crash your entire civilian and military infrastructures.”
Daniels stared at him. “Jesus. Why don’t you just order them to stand down? They’re your software for God’s sake.”
“Not any more. They’re taking their orders from a secret group among themselves, called the Nexus. I don’t have any control over them.”
“Then we need to find out who did this, and fast.” Daniels tried to think. “We can start with the EMP projector. That’s highly restricted technology. It shouldn’t take long to find out who released one.”
“Mr. President,” Rapier interrupted before Nick could reply, “the AI network has already determined that the computer records relating to your EMP projector inventory have been recently modified to appear fully stocked, and the perpetrator’s access code has been erased.”
“Let’s backtrack,” said Nick. “Who had access to that technology, as well as the knowledge that Andrea was a Sentinel?”
Daniels turned white, his jaw clenched. “Alex, you fucking bastard.”
“Alex who?”
“Collins, the Vice President.” Daniels snarled. “He’s the only one who knew and had that level of access.” He stabbed his finger down on a call button on his desk.
The two Secret Service agents at the door walked back into the room. “Yes, sir?”
“Find out where the Vice President is right now.”
The other agent spoke into his wrist microphone and waited a few seconds for a reply. He faced the President. “Sir, the Vice President is at Andrews, on board Air Force Two. They’re about to take off.”
“Where the hell is he going?” Daniels snapped.
“England, sir. He’s supposed to meet with the Prime Minister in London regarding the U.K. Government’s relationship with the Court of Shadows. He’s been setting it up with the Court Ambassador for several months.”
“Right,” said Daniels, nodding. “I remember now. Tell them to hold the flight on the ground on a pretext until I get there. Don’t let him leave the plane under any circumstances.”
Nick stared at the President incredulously. “Collins has been meeting with the Court Ambassador for months, and you didn’t tell me?”
Daniels ground his teeth. “At the time, I didn’t think it was relevant.”
Nick’s eyes shaded toward red. “You were wrong.”
“Obviously.” Daniels addressed the agents again. “Get me a helicopter to take me to Andrews, right now. Stay off the radios, and don’t warn the Vice President’s security detail that I’m coming.”
One of the agents nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said, exiting the room.
“I can jump us there faster,” Nick said.
Daniels shook his head. “Andrews is a sensitive military transfer point. We brought in outside contractors to project a jumper block over the entire facility and give us the means to rotate the access frequencies continuously. Even if I order the block shut down, the soldiers on the base have been ordered to shoot first if they see a teleport matrix form.”
Nick raised his eyebrows at that. “Why?”
Daniels smiled grimly at him. “We didn’t want a repeat of your performance at the Los Angeles Air Force Base.”
Nick faced the remaining agent. “How long before a helicopter can get here?”
“Ten minutes from Andrews to here, and then another ten minutes to return,” answered the agent.
“Get my security detail ready, and tell them that I’m expecting trouble when I meet with Collins,” Daniels instructed. He smiled grimly at Nick when the second agent left. “You have my permission to read his mind, if it will help find my daughter any faster.”
Nick nodded. “I know most high-level government officials keep some version of a second-generation psychic inhibitor on their persons, ever since Court started dumping them on the American black market, so I might not be able to get in.”
Daniels snorted. “If we’re right, he’s guilty of treason by releasing an EMP projector to a foreign power. He wears an American flag lapel pin. The inhibitor is attached to the stud on the back. Under the circumstances, I think it’s safe to say that he doesn’t deserve to wear it.”
CHAPTER 13
House Daviroquir Stronghold, Pennine Mountains, Greater Manchester, England; Four hours, twenty-nine minutes remaining
“Wake up, Toby!”
The words were piercingly loud, but he couldn’t grasp their meaning. Sluggishly, he tried to focus.
“Please wake up. I’m scared.”
Andrea, he thought finally. It’s Andrea’s voice. What is she scared of? Toby opened his eyes and found himself lying face-down on a scratchy wool blanket. He attempted to roll onto his back but found his hands were bound behind him. Blearily, he tried to r
emember what had happened. The memory chilled him like ice. Gasping, he flopped onto his side and took in his surroundings. He was lying on a narrow cot in a six-foot cell, surrounded by clear glass walls on three sides. The fourth was covered by metal bars. Andrea paced back and forth in a similar cell next to his.
“Oh, thank God.” Andrea stopped pacing and came to stand directly opposite him on her side of the wall. “About time you woke up,” she said out loud.
“Are you all right?” Toby’s voice rasped, and he felt the pain of bruises all over his body along with the sharp stab of what was almost certainly a cracked rib. It can’t have been that long if the damage hasn’t healed.
“I guess Sentinel genes are good for something.” Andrea said with a snort. “They brought us in about two hours ago, and since then they’ve left us alone.”
Toby blinked in surprise. Two hours? Why haven’t they killed us yet?
Andrea rolled her eyes. “Don’t go giving them any ideas, Toby. Maybe they just wanted hostages.”
Toby turned his head carefully to stare at her. “Andrea,” he said softly, “why did you just say that?”
She tilted her head quizzically to look at him in confusion. “I just meant there’s no point worrying why they haven’t killed us. We’re alive, at least for now. Be thankful for small favors.”
“I never said anything about them killing us, Andrea,” Toby said in a monotone.
She frowned. “Yes, you did. Just now you said—”
“You’re wrong,” he thought. “I didn’t say a word.”
She blinked. “But I heard—” She broke off, her eyes widening. “Your lips aren’t moving.”
Toby laboriously pushed himself into a seated position, dropping his feet to the floor. He turned his gaze back to her. “What the fuck have you done?”
She scowled at his accusatory tone. “What did I do? You’re the one with all the magic.”
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